Setting Stars
by Aya-kun Rose
Summary: Even heroes must someday sleep.


Bright building blocks sat scattered across the floor, untouched, while well-loved patchwork dolls peeped out from cubbies where the children had left them for safekeeping. The playroom of the orphanage, ordinarily filled with the vibrant sound and motion of its residents, hung in a breathless silence as each member of the young audience waited for the punchline.

Irelia had heard the tall tale enough times that she could recite it verbatim, but she knew she'd never be able to tell it the way Karma told it, never be able to summon the heart and nuance required to bring it to life the way Karma did time after time. She glanced around the sunny room, not surprised to see many of the caregivers held just as captive by the old woman's yarn as any of their charges. Irelia felt a smile flash across her thoughts, though the impulse didn't carry enough stimulus for it to show on her face. It hadn't for a long, long time.

"And from that day on," Karma was saying, her voice low and solemn and graveled with age, "she swore never _ever_ to thump a yeti in the nose again."

The room exploded into shrieks of laughter. Some of the older kids, who had surely heard this one before, clapped like the adults did; but the littlest ones were rolling on the floor, quite beside themselves with mirth.

Deep crow's feet crinkled into place at the sides of Karma's ancient eyes, bright and clear as they'd been forty, fifty years ago. She sat stooped on her seat of honor, an overturned barrel that – without fail – always managed to be painted a different color each time they visited. A thin hand clutched the polished dragon's head that topped her walking cane, while the other waved for order.

"Now then, have I told you about what happened to Ionia's moving castle?"

For a second, Irelia thought Karma hadn't made herself heard under the ruckus, but suddenly kids were batting at their neighbors, hissing at them to pipe down for the next story. They didn't get the chance, however, because in the sudden lull came the onerous peal of the courtyard bell marking the hour. Karma glanced over the sea of small faces towards Irelia, a smile and a shrug.

The caregivers, shaking off their inertia, bustled into action, moving towards the youngest with sweaters and boots in hand. Irelia stepped to Karma's side as a moody protest rose up, the younglings realizing that storytime was over and now they were expected to go outside.

"On your feet, soliders," Irelia barked, drawing immediate silence and scaring some of the daintier sweethearts. Karma acted the comforting smile Irelia could no longer attempt: "Don't want to keep Miss Riven waiting, dear ones. Now, how many of you have been practicing your ki moves?"

Hands flew into the air – as well as some rambunctious feet – and the herd of children began to allow themselves to be wrapped up, willing to brace the chill autumn air for a chance to show off in front of their peers and admirers.

Irelia found Karma's hand in her own, feeling the fragile bones and the paper-thin skin, and held it gently while Karma carefully creaked to her feet. Karma grinned in good-natured gratitude, shifting her cane to bear her weight as they embarked across the open room towards the windows. Children flowed excited past and around them for the door, all but ignoring the two old friends strolling hand in hand through their midst.

Irelia held her hand as she helped Karma drop onto a faded chair that looked out over bookshelf into the paved courtyard, where now a lithe and tan woman – still astoundingly fit for someone approaching her seventh decade – leaned against a stone deity, nodding as her pupils assembled before her.

As Karma and Irelia each lifted a hand in greeting to Riven, a small voice chimed in behind them.

"I love your hair, Miss Karma."

"Oh!" Karma's hand settled on her snow-white hair as they both turned to see a petite yordle girl perched on the shoulders of a plump Ionian boy.

"And yours is very pretty, too," Karma returned kindly, since of course the girl's hair matched hers and Riven's. "Are you going to go out and say hi to Miss Riven, then?"

In lieu of reply, the girl patted the boy on his forehead. "This is my baby brother Minsoo," she offered. "And I'm Ivy."

Sometimes Irelia wondered if Karma ever stopped smiling. She watched as Karma took Minsoo and Ivy both by the hand, squeezing as tight as her tired grip would allow. "It's my great pleasure to meet you, my very great pleasure."

"Okay see you," Ivy chirped, tugging on a bit of dark hair to urge her steed away. They got a few steps off before an adult swept Ivy up, squeezed her into a jacket, and toted her outside with Minsoo jumping at their heels.

Karma's quiet laugh had never seemed to change, somehow, even while so many other things had. Irelia turned and caught Karma's eye in their reflection, seeing their faces side by side; one lined with the weight of many hard and happy years, the other a dark and frozen memory of foreshortened youth.

Outside, Riven began to demonstrate the first few steps of a kata, one that Irelia recognized as if it were a distant friend never forgotten. It felt like a lifetime ago that Riven had bloodied her fists on Karma's gate post, afraid and angry. Her Ionian guardian had, in response, invited Zaun's forgotten daughter to teach her how to cope with her demons. How to allow the past to rush from you like a wind, beyond your control or concern. How to focus the mind through calculated activity – a tenet to which Irelia had quickly attached herself, albeit the Captain's activities had involved a great deal more bloodshed than the freewheeling form the children were now attempting to copy.

"This is our Ionia," Karma sighed. Her reflection spoke of the joy of a difficult task masterfully completed. "And they are Ionia's future. Do you remember being that young?"

Irelia watched the mistimed flailing and chaotic whirling of thirty different versions of what was meant to be the same thing. She looked to Riven, whose smile was mellow and even, supervising this pack of outcasts like she'd been born to it.

At her side, Karma leaned forward on her cane, staring bright-eyed at the orderly disorder. In a quiet voice, she mused, "I should like to see another spring, I think. To be certain of another fresh start . . . ."

Irelia said nothing, but moved her hand to Karma's narrow shoulder. What once had been strong and resolute had wizened away into hunched and grayed, all energy expended towards forging a third path upon which an entire nation then had to be carried by sheer force of will.

"Will you look after them?" Karma's voice, so warm and faintly resigned, dipped deep into that buried vault where Irelia's beating heart slept. "Will you keep an eye on my family?"

Irelia's grip went tight for a half second, and she had to clear her throat before giving her answer.

"I don't think anyone will ever love them as much as you do, but you have my word I'll do my best."

Karma's hand fluttered up to press atop Irelia's, two old friends who had traveled two very different paths side by side, and together they silently stood watch over those that would carry the banner ever onward.


End file.
